


all the things he'll never say

by marvelleous



Series: a world where you and i belong [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Inhumans AU, More characters to be added, No Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-30 00:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12096519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelleous/pseuds/marvelleous
Summary: Melinda had never intended on becoming Queen, responsible for the welfare of an entire race, but she didn’t have much of a choice, after falling in love with the Crown Prince, who could not speak for himself.a collection of non-linear stories set in an alternate universe, where phil and melinda are the king and queen of attilan.





	1. Chapter 1

When she begins to awaken in the morning, Melinda finds that all of her senses are overwhelmed. There’s a welcome heat beneath her, surrounding her, a cocoon of warmth that she does not ever want to leave. She cannot explain why she feels so exhausted, but finds that she does not want to open her eyes, instead settling further against the warmth, which she realises now in her half-asleep state, is rather firm. The room is unusually silent, devoid of the snores of her cousins whose quarters are located on either side of her own, but she can hear a steady thumping, almost feel it, right against her cheek.

The scent that she inhales upon taking a breath is familiar and comforting, and makes her feel safe more than anything, and she wonders if this euphoric bliss she feels is just a particularly wonderful dream.

How could reality truly feel as good as this?

Slowly, she opens her eyes, and finds her vision completely obscured by a curtain of her own hair, which in itself is not unusual. But she realises now what had drawn her from her slumber; something is touching her hair. It's a gentle caress, careful, calculated and sets off internal alarms within her.

Without a second thought, she bolts upright and attacks her would be assailant, her hair whipping out furiously before her, a split second away from doing real harm when it finally dawns on her where she is.

In the King’s quarters, sitting astride her new husband’s bare body, a literal hair away from making herself a widow. Her dark curls fall, retreating behind her shoulders with a single thought as she claps a hand over her mouth, feeling the heat of embarrassment tinge her cheeks when she looks into the eyes of her King.

To the rest of their kind he was King Phillip, the silent, but to her, he was just Phil, her only love.

“I'm so sorry,” she gasps, reaching down to cup his cheek with her hand, feeling a great sense of horror at having nearly harmed him. And to think, that all throughout their lives, he had been the one whose very presence intimidated and struck fear into the hearts of others.

Phil doesn't smile, doesn't frown, simply extending both hands, reaching for her free one and pulling it to rest over his heart. She sees the silver ring on his finger that is a mirror to her own, a simple but unique design she had not paid much mind to when he first offered it to her. It is truly a thing of beauty, and she appreciates it now, seeing them as a pair, glinting in the morning light. Her attention drifts from their wedding bands as his hands begin to move, familiar shapes and gestures they spent years creating together, ones that only she can understand fully.

_There’s something I've wanted you to know._

She does not respond, simply keeping her eyes trained on him, waiting for him to continue. Sometimes he could sign for hours, using his hands to express all that his voice could not, for fear of ending their very existence. It pains her sometimes, that someone who has so much to say is so limited. There is only so much he can express through movements, but she has learned him well enough over the years to know what he is thinking just by the micro expressions upon his face; the slight twitch of his brow, a quirk of his lips, an intense stare in her direction followed by a very slow blink. The last one meant that he was thinking of her, and it seemed to her that he demonstrated the action a little too frequently to be believable.

_Some say I am lucky to have been born into the royal family, to be the crown prince, to be king. Some say I am lucky to have such abilities, to be so powerful. But I knew that I was the most fortunate in our city, the day we first met and you chose to stand by me. You were my first friend, my dearest friend, my confidante and my partner, for you truly understood be like no others did. You are now my wife, my queen and you will be the only one I ever love, until the very end._

He is smiling now, and she does too, for how could she not, knowing how sweet and incredibly sentimental his words are.

_I know we made no vows yesterday, on the day of our marriage, and I want to promise you that though I may not always be calm and rational, I will always listen to your advice. And though we may not always agree on all things, I want it made known that the opinions you voice, whether they be mine or your own, should be of the same value, because we are equals in this._

It means a lot to her, to see him expressing these things. Their relationship has never been easy, but they have always endeavoured to communicate, because they both just how lonely the silence can be if it is all consuming and never ending.

Phil tilts his head to one side and she moves to clamber off his body, settling on the cool sheets beside him, quickly curling back up against his warmth. She reaches for the discarded sheets, pulling them from off the floor with two strong bands of hair and letting the material fall over their bodies, shielding them from the chilly air.

_Your hair is softer than any fabric could ever be._

Sighing, she cocoons them in a blanket of her dark tresses. Seeing him happy always made her smile, away from the company of others of course.

They lie facing one another now, their bare skin touching almost from head to toe, their legs entertwined beneath the ivory sheets. He rests his forehead against hers, reaching for her hands, holding them in his own for the longest moment. What comes next happens in complete synchronisation, the way he holds her palms against the thrum of his beating heart as their noses brush.

She knows exactly what this means.

_You mean everything to me._

He’s only done it once before today, but she knows her husband well enough to predict that this will likely be a daily occurrence, and deep down, she has no objections. It is difficult for her to repeat the words back to him, for she does not often express sentiments verbally.

Phil was mute because the only other choice was to destroy everything he held dear.

Melinda does not say everything on her mind or in her heart, and that is a choice, a choice she is fortunate enough to make. She does not think she will ever say the words out loud, tell Phil that she loves him more than anything, and she knows that he does not mind.

It's only fair, because he cannot say the words either, and she will never get to hear how much love he bears for her.

All they can do is show one another, through every other medium, just how much they care.

Her next move is bold and hardly subtle, but it does just the trick. Tilting her head upwards, she closes the distance between them and presses her lips against his.

The softest sigh uttered could tear her apart but she is not afraid, for she loves him, and knows he will never hurt her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based on tumblr prompt: the day Phil gets released from containment

Melinda is nervous.

It's a feeling she has from time to time, fearful thoughts crowding her mind and driving her into an almost panicked frenzy - on the inside. As far as those who are around her know, she has none of these worries, her face a constant mask of indifference towards most matters in their day to day lives.

She wears a similar expression now, pacing in her own room as she waits to be called upon by the King and Queen. There’s no one around to see her, but she thinks of it as practice, walking from one end of the room to the other, back straight and head held up, pretending that all is right with the world. She thinks her hands would shake if she did not keep her fists clenched, that her hair would be moving around to reflect her frenzied state had she not kept it bound, constrained and entirely uncomfortable.

The truth is, she has been waiting for this day for so long now, and now that it has arrived, she does not know how to feel about it. A horribly selfish part of her wishes it had not come so soon, that she would have been given more time to prepare, but those feelings are minuscule in comparison to the anticipation, the longing.

Today is the day that Crown Prince Phillip is to be released from his isolation, and reintegrated into their society. It's a significant event for all of their people, for the entire royal family; but it is of more importance to her than she will ever be able to explain.

She will at last be able to stand within the same room as he, and see his face without a glass barrier between them. For the first time, he will hear her voice as it is, not muffled and difficult to comprehend. She only hopes that neither of them are disappointed by what they find.

Building up hope and wonder for seven long years only leads to more room for disappointment.

 

* * *

 

The entire royal family is in attendance today, and for some, it is the first time in many years that they have laid eyes upon him, and he, them. He tries his best to focus on his parents, listening as his father delivers a very well rehearsed speech to his aunts, uncles, cousins, welcoming him back to his rightful place in Attilan. He knows that he will be reintroduced to the rest of their people in a lavish ceremony in a few days time, and he looks forward to it as much as he had looked forward to today, to be standing here under the scrutiny of his entire family.

As much as he knows he should give his father all of his attention, his gaze is so quickly drawn away, to a familiar face, standing off towards the edge of the group.

His brother, Grant.

Phil tries not to react to the unsettling expression upon his brother’s face, the way his nose is turned up, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He knows that Grant’s mind is not quite right, and wonders if it would be a benefit to their people if they locked him up instead. These thoughts quickly leave his mind however, when he is distracted once more, this time by someone who he is truly happy to see.

Melinda.

She is dressed more formally than he has ever seen her, in a rich purple gown that is more colourful than anything he's seen her wear in the past.

He's always found her beautiful, but it's as if she transcends that very description, standing before him with an almost defiant look in her eyes, willing him to respond.

A round of applause sounds out, and he realises his father has finished speaking, that the clapping is his family’s way of welcoming him back into their lives. He smiles, eyes lighting up with glee when Melinda smiles back.

 

* * *

 

It's a wonder they've managed to keep their friendship completely hidden from all others in the seven years since Melinda first snuck into Phil’s chambers.

Her parents had warned her that under no circumstances was she to visit out of bounds areas within the palace. Of course, had they not laid out such rules, she would not have been so inclined to break them.

It was not her fault, truly.

No one else knows of their interactions with one another, and they intend to keep it that way until Phil has a chance to inform his parents of the matter. They had discussed this at length during her final visits to him in the weeks leading up to his release, and knew that until the King and Queen were informed, they would have to treat one another as strangers.

Phil wished for Melinda to become his interpreter, securing a position for her by his side, where she could remain when the time came for him to ascend to the throne. There were many things she desired in life, but knowing she could remain with her closest friend and retain control over her own future is more than she thought she would ever be able to achieve in their society, their everyday lives governed so strictly by old laws and traditions.

Kings that were unable to voice their opinions were no Kings at all, and so he needed a voice, her voice.

All that remains is for them to have his parents on board with the idea, and they have no choice but to hide their friendship until then.

The feat is so much more difficult than either of them anticipate.

 

* * *

 

Melinda sits alone in her bedchambers, taking her hair down from the ridiculous mass that had earlier been pinned atop her head. There's a throbbing pain but the freedom of letting her curls fall around her is ecstasy, and she is so focused on feeling the air around her that she almost misses the soft knocks upon her door.

She frowns, wondering who could be calling upon her at such an hour, but moves to open the door nonetheless, and find out who her late night visitor might be. Taking a moment to straighten herself out, in the case that it may be someone of importance waiting on the other side, she throws her hair over one shoulder before reaching out to turn the handle, pulling her door open.

“Phil?”

He smiles, at least she thinks he is smiling, for his face is mostly shrouded in darkness, and she quickly ushers him inside before either of them can be caught. She wonders to herself about why he is here, in her room and so late at night, but he answers the question before she has an opportunity to ask it, hands moving in easily recognisable gestures.

_I wanted to see you._

She lowers her guard completely at these words, and invites him to sit beside her at the end of her bed, knowing that something must be troubling him if he is seeking her out. They saw each other last during the evening meal, but did not interact, as their cousins were eager to be reacquainted with Phil, and he had no objections on that front. She had sat quietly by Grant’s side, a peaceful silence compared to the younger Prince.

But now Phil is here, beside her, and she is ready to listen or speak, whichever he needs from her tonight.

_I knew it would be hard, being around people again. There are so many voices and they do not understand me._

She nods, knowing exactly what he is trying to convey to her. Whilst he had been condemned to his own silence, having no other choice but to not use his voice, his existence up until now also mostly lacked the sounds of others. Even though she spent so many days visiting him, Melinda had never been one for long verbal communications, and Phil had done most of the work, while she sat patiently and helped him craft these signs so she could comprehend him.

_It is hard, but no easier than pretending you are a stranger to me. You are my dearest friend._

The words warm her heart, and her hair moves gently in the air behind them, a strand or two brushing up against Phil’s shoulder. She freezes at that, as does he.

“My apologies,” she finally murmurs, unsure of what else she might be able to say in this moment. He shakes his head though, gently reaching out towards her, holding his hand in midair, as if asking for permission.

She does not like it when people touch her hair, nor does she usually grant permission even when asked for it. Each strand is an extension of her very being, and it always feels wrong, uncomfortable, like the action is violating her. Even as these thoughts fill her mind, one dark tendril snakes out, brushing against the back of Phil’s hand, and then slowly curling around his wrist. She takes in a deep breath before allowing her gaze to dart upwards, meeting his piercing blue eyes.

He appears every bit mesmerised, face lit up in delight, and she wonders if it is due to his excitement at seeing her powers at work. They stay like that, for how long, she does not know, but Phil only appears to grow more and more enamoured by her abilities as the time passes by. She can see just how disappointed he is when she unfurls her hair from around his wrist, and the strand weaves itself back into the rest of her hair.

Phil seems to be almost in a trance-like state, his hand still in the air between them, unwavering, and she sees the wistful expression on his face when he finally draws back, fingers quickly forming a mess of different shapes.

_I am… your gift is wonderful. Strong and beautiful, as the rest of you is. I am sorry if I was too forward, but I have not been this close to another person for as long as I can remember…_

He trails off then, head hanging low, and she realises that not only has Phil been deprived of the company of others, but that he has not felt the touch of another inhuman in his living memory.

She recalls how everyone had kept a distance from him throughout the day, how even the King and Queen made no moves to embrace their eldest son. Others steered clear of the Prince, fearing his destructive abilities, and she does not know how it must feel, to be so deprived of affection. She prefers her solitude and being at an arm's length from those around her, but knowing Phil’s nature, she realises just how much he must crave to be close to others.

The irony of the situation is almost humorous, that she, the only one who did not fear him generally disliked contact. She, who is to be his voice one day, speaks only when she must.

But she is also the only one who can provide him comfort now, and surprisingly, it isn't something she wants to do for just him. She also wants it for herself, to know how it might feel to be affectionate with someone for who she cares so deeply.

Tentatively, she reaches for his hand, waiting as he extends it, laying his palm open in the air. She takes a deep breath, and then brushes her fingers over his palm, feeling his smooth skin beneath her fingertips, a strange energy in the air between them.

It's as if something sparked in the air as their skin touched for the first time.

She's quick to pull away afterwards, but Phil doesn't loom disappointed at her actions. He's smiling, and she has a feeling they might be initiating contact with one another more frequently in the future. She thinks he may linger, but He excuses himself soon afterwards, leaving her rooms for his own, after bidding her a good night's sleep.

As Melinda curls up in bed, her hair fanning out all around her, she wonders is misunderstanding the relationship that exists between her and Phil. They are friends, and she is his loyal subject and will hopefully be bestowed the honour of becoming his translator one day.

Is it so completely wrong that she imagines a future where she is more than that? She knows how many other girls her age long to wed a prince, and someday become queen, but she does not share in these ambitions. It just so happens that the person she cares so deeply for is Phil.

Before today, she had long resigned herself to the fact that their relationship would be nothing but platonic and professional.

How could a single touch and imagined sparks change her mind so quickly, making her desire something that is surely forbidden? She knows more than to harbour these silly fantasies, for how could Phil ever look to her as anything more than a friend and advisor?

 

* * *

 

He lies on his back, staring up at the darkened ceiling above him and wonders why sleep eludes him so. It could easily be blamed on the new surroundings, the unfamiliar bed, but he knows that these are merely excuses.

Despite having mediated for hours after their evening meal, one short visit to Melinda has managed to make him lose focus once more. It's dangerous to not be in control at all times, knowing that the slightest whisper could destroy them all.

He knows he will have to speak to his father soon about their relationship, but he does not know what kind of relationship he wishes to present them as having. She's special, and means so much to him. He cannot imagine living a life without her right there by his side, which is why he had been so insistent on her agreeing to become his translator.

But he realises now that he wants her to stand by him not only as his voice. When he envisions their future, with him as King, he does not see Melinda merely as someone who interpreted his words for others. He pictures her hand resting over his own, standing by the throne. It may be an impossible dream, but he wants her as his queen.

He will have to convince his parents of the matter, express to them just how important it is to him. That won't be the most difficult part though. He thinks the hardest person to convince of his affections will be Melinda herself.

It is quite fortunate that he enjoys a challenge.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! if you enjoyed it, please let me know by leaving a comment below :) 
> 
> you can send me prompts for this verse [here](https://marvelelle.tumblr.com/ask)


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